This Life
by Eleven Eleven
Summary: Apparently, this title's staying. Because I can't think of anything else. Story summary: Lane, Dave and the life they should ultimately have.
1. Chained Melody

A/N. Welcome to my first ever Gilmore Girls fic. I feel a bit weird, stepping out of my In A Heartbeat boundaries, but I love Lane/Dave stuff sooo much, and there just wasn't enough of it on the show, so I wrote this piece here.  
  
Thanks to my beta-reader, Montana Magic.  
  
Chapter 1: Chained Melody  
  
Dave Rygalski sat staring at the unfinished music in front of him. For some reason, he couldn't complete the melody that had been drifting around in his head for the past two days. It had sounded just right while he was driving, while he was taking out the garbage, even while he was sleeping. But for some reason, it refused to come out right when he was finally sitting down with his guitar and a piece of paper. It was nothing short of a musical disaster. Strumming the instrument absently, he let the sound wash over his overworked mind and allowed all twenty-eight years of him to relax.  
  
"Daddy!"  
  
The shriek was accompanied by a flying leap into his lap, courtesy of his slightly hyperactive four-year-old daughter. Dave moved his cherished guitar out of the way just in time, and accepted the bundle of brown curls and a dimpled smile. Pushing his music to one side, he scooped the child up and headed out of his studio formerly known as the basement. Work was over for today.  
  
"Has your mother been feeding you sugar again?" he asked playfully, shutting the door behind him as they entered the kitchen.  
  
His wife was nowhere in sight, but her voice was steadily becoming louder as her footsteps came closer. Then, with a loud bang, she threw open the door and stomped in, giving no indication that she had seen her husband or daughter. Dave took a precautionary step backwards, but otherwise stayed where he was, intrigued by the conversation that was taking place in front of him. No doubt it was his mother-in-law on the other end. No one else could produce this amount of suppressed rage in his wife. Dave absently admired her straining, but ultimately rational tone.  
  
"No, I told you that we can't come next week because Dave's still working next week...We can't go without Dave, and we've already been over this. Twice, to be exact...Mama, I'm really sorry, but I don't think I can talk to you about this anymore."  
  
Lane Kim slammed the phone down onto the kitchen bench and turned furiously to face her husband.  
  
"Can you believe the nerve of her?!" she demanded, all trace of the forced calm gone from her voice. "She's trying to shut us out of her Thanksgiving, like she did last year, not to mention the many years before that! It's either we don't come at all, or we come without you! Which, by the way, is completely out of the question, as she already knows!"  
  
"Uh, Lane," Dave cleared his throat. "You didn't hang up."  
  
Lane looked down at the phone, and her eyes widened in something that hinted at fear.  
  
"Do you want to call me back later, or shall we end it here?" came Mrs. Kim's voice, distinctly, if slightly tinny, from the receiver. "I have to get to church."  
  
Slowly bending down, Lane peered at the phone, an expression of horror spreading over her face.  
  
"Lane?" came the voice again.  
  
As if it had triggered something inside of her, Lane pounced on the cordless, stabbing at the button to end the call. Backing away from the bench, she slid her gaze up to meet Dave's, who stood watching her silently.  
  
"Oh my God," Lane groaned, pressing both palms to her forehead for a second. "I'm never gonna be able to talk to her again! I can't believe that just happened! She's gonna me call back! I can't talk to her! Tell her I've gone out! And I won't be back anytime soon! Maybe not ever!"  
  
The Asian woman started to shuffle agitatedly towards the door, as if trying to escape.  
  
"She blames me for everything!" she babbled on, a slightly manic look entering her eye. "She hates me! She hates me even more now, because she knows I rant about her behind her back, and she's gonna chalk it up against me, as yet another reason why she won't go to Heaven!"  
  
"Lane, calm down," Dave shifted his daughter to one side and made as if to walk over to his wife. "She blames me, not you."  
  
"Am I really that bad of a daughter?" Lane asked suddenly, gazing enquiringly at her husband. "I mean, what did I really honestly do to make her act even more heinous towards me now, even though, I am a fully grown adult?"  
  
"You married me?" Dave grinned half-heartedly.  
  
"Oh...," Lane pretended to slap her forehead. "So that's it. And here I am thinking she just hated me for no reason!"  
  
Looking back at the phone, Lane snatched it up, muttering, "This thing better be off!"  
  
"OK, you know what?" Dave stepped forward, removing the phone from his wife's grasp. "I think you've had enough for today. You need to stop thinking about your mother, and go to bed before she starts giving you nightmares."  
  
"Oh believe me, she already has," Lane nodded, staring viciously at the phone. "Remember that night, when we were playing this gig at some kid's party? And I got semi-drunk on beer?"  
  
"That would be Kyle's party," Dave gave a wry smile, setting down the wriggling girl.  
  
"Well, after you dropped me off and I walked in to find, shock horror, absolutely zilch punishment awaiting me, I went to bed and where I proceeded to rest fitfully. Every time I closed my eyes, the same dream would start again. She'd be standing in front of me, and all of a sudden, all this beer would gush in and gradually drown me, and all the while, she's standing there, not trying to rescue me in any way, with her you- should've-listened-to-me look on her face, and Young Chui is next to her-"  
  
"Wait, wait," Dave cut in. "Young Chui was in your dream?"  
  
"Yeah," Lane affirmed. "He was throwing these Seventh Day Adventist college application forms at me, telling me to hold onto them while he went to get help."  
  
"Young Chui was trying to rescue you in your dream?" Dave asked incredulously.  
  
"Actually, he never went to get the help. He just kept throwing them and repeating himself, and then I'd save myself by waking up."  
  
"And you remembered that?! This whole dream? Every single detail?!"  
  
"Well, it was a vivid nightmare. It had scarring effects."  
  
Lane missed the look of disbelief on her husband's face and turned to her daughter, who was hugging her left leg. Playing along, she walked heavily towards the kitchen door, her daughter still attached to her limb.  
  
"Dave, do you know where Brody is?" Lane turned stiffly back, pretending not to notice the little girl. "Because it's time for her to go to bed, but I can't find her. I haven't seen her anywhere!"  
  
The pair exited the kitchen in giggles and Dave smiled, in spite of himself. Finding a name for their daughter hadn't been too difficult, it turned out. Lane had been listening to The Distillers right before the labor. Armstrong was out of the question once they realised they were parents of a baby girl. Dalle had been the first choice, but for one reason or another, his wife had reverted to Brody. She had also promised him that he had full naming rights when it came to their next child. Dave was still stuck between Strummer or Moon.  
  
Sighing, he placed the phone back on the bench, unable to stop himself from checking to see if it was well and truly off, and headed back towards the basement. Maybe he could get in another fifteen minutes. And maybe, just maybe, that song would be done.  
  
An hour or so later, Dave was trying to slip under the covers of his bed, without waking the apparently sleeping Lane beside him. A difficult task, given that his wife had somewhat sprawled herself across both pillows and was thereby more subject to be woken by his movements.  
  
"Did you finish it?" came her sleepy voice, startling Dave slightly.  
  
"Were you asleep?" he whispered, removing her arm from around his pillow gently.  
  
"Almost," she roused, moving back to her side of the bed. "Not quite...maybe."  
  
Dave slid down between the sheets with much more ease now that she was partially awake, and automatically turned onto his right. Lane's back faced him. He moved closer, draping an arm around her waist.  
  
"It's not coming together," he said after a while, with an edge of frustration to his words. "Everything about it is just...wrong."  
  
Lane didn't respond verbally, but instead took hold of the hand that was resting at her stomach and squeezed it reassuringly. He threaded his fingers through hers, locking the back of his hand into her much smaller palm, finding comfort in the warmth her hand offered.  
  
"I'm sorry about the whole Mrs. Kim fiasco before," Lane spoke into the dark, after a pause.  
  
"It's fine," Dave replied reflexively, the same thing he always said rolling off his tongue as easily as ever.  
  
But deep down somewhere inside of him, he wasn't entirely sure where, but somewhere, he knew it wasn't fine. Not entirely. Maybe not even remotely. And he knew, without it being said, that Lane didn't find it 'fine' either. What was so 'fine' about your mother-in-law hating your guts?  
  
Dave hadn't planned for things to be like this. He'd certainly never planned on creating negative feelings between Mrs. Kim and himself, or worse yet, an intensified tension between Lane and her mother, who already had a not-so-great relationship. And yet, that was exactly what had happened.  
  
He sighed inwardly, reflecting on something Lane had said earlier. Kyle's party. That had been one of their first major gigs as...what was that name Zach had wanted to use? Follow Them To The...? He couldn't remember. It was beside the point anyway, said point being the fact that Kyle's party could have so easily been the end of his relationship with Lane, what with her getting intoxicated enough to call her mother and spill the entire truth about the band and well, him.  
  
But it hadn't. As he recalled, Mrs. Kim had allowed them to go to prom together. An amazing act of concession from the scariest, most strict and controlling mother he had ever met. Granted, he'd had to prove himself worthy first. His well-meaning list of appropriate attributes, some of which were slightly exaggerated, his frantic scouring of the entire bible, which had taken the whole night to get through, the gray suit Zach had made fun of mercilessly, which he'd ended up wearing for over 24 hours. Then, there was the numbness his right elbow had endured during the bible-reading marathon and for at least three hours after, the extreme fatigue that he hadn't been able to satisfy until he'd stumbled back to Mrs. Kim to ask for a clear-cut answer, and throughout it all, the fear that Young Chui would beat him in this two-men race for Lane. It had all been worth it. And clearly, Mrs. Kim had not thought of him too badly back then.  
  
But now? Now was a different story, in a different time. 'Now' was a time when her only daughter was married and a mother herself. It wasn't these notions that Mrs. Kim objected to. It was more like the idea, and to some extent, the humiliation of Lane marrying a non-Korean, bearing said non- Korean's offspring, and letting the non-Korean take her far, far away from the antique shop and basically, having a life that wasn't monitored by Mrs. Kim.  
  
Of course, there was the whole issue of their marriage actually being a sort of elopement. To be fair, he had been the one to suggest it. But he'd been desperate. Mrs. Kim had literally been on the verge of kidnapping Lane and shipping her off to Korea for an arranged marriage. The idea of her daughter being engaged to some guitar player who wasn't even Christian (that had been embarrassingly revealed some years ago) was enough to drive her to a point of desperation of her own, and in some way, Dave understood that. What he didn't understand though, was Mrs. Kim's need to control Lane's life. Sure, she may have preferred a Korean son-in-law, but the bottom line was her daughter had chosen someone else.  
  
With his fiancée's happiness, not to mention future, at stake, Dave had 'kidnapped' Lane (who had been a more than willing victim), with nothing more than a desire to get her out of Stars Hollow. So, they'd embarked on an impromptu road trip, which led them to the airport, which led them to what had been his home-away-from-home for about three years by then: California. They were married on a beautiful stretch of beach, and had spent almost year there while Dave finished his college degree. For him, the most rewarding aspect of his 'crime' was freeing Lane from everything that had held her back before, and watching as she flourished in the glow of liberation. She'd taken a music course, dabbled with art classes, and joined a writing workshop. It had seemed like a ceaseless summer honeymoon, and for the first time since they'd met, there was no overbearing mother in the way.  
  
But, as all good things do, it eventually came to an end. Lane, being Lane, had steadily become immensely guilty about the whole situation; she'd never planned to keep the marriage a secret from her own mother, but somehow, she had. It wasn't a weight easily lifted from her shoulders, not even when Dave reminded her that the tr-monthly postcards from California, although sketchy, would pretty much give Mrs. Kim indication of their marital status. Despite the fact that his mother-in-law never replied, Dave got the feeling that she knew. Lane, however, wasn't to be convinced and had finally called her mother from California to explain, and apologise.  
  
Dave had taken it as a (sort of) good sign when Mama Kim didn't turn up on their doorstep, demanding he return Lane to her. It turned out that she had suspected their marriage all along, but to have her daughter confirm it with actual words was the epitome of disappointment. There had been no ambiguity when she had asked to speak to Dave. He could still remember her exact words:  
  
"David, you have gone against your word to me. I said that you could not get married. You told me it seemed fair to you. Those were your exact words."  
  
"Yes m'am, I did say that. I'm very sorry."  
  
"Lane is only twenty-two. She is too young to be married. She doesn't know what she's doing."  
  
Dave had to bite back the accusation he wanted to throw at her, to remind her that just less than a year ago, she herself had been arranging a marriage for Lane. But she was right. He had gone back on his word.  
  
"I'm sorry, Mrs. Kim."  
  
There was no reply, only a resounding silence. And then, the tiniest sound broke through that silence, so magnified against the quiet that it compared to glass shattering on the floor. It was a sob. Dave pressed the phone closer to his ear, straining to hear what he thought he'd heard, but all that remained in the receiver was the dial tone.  
  
Lane had been heartbroken over the alleged sob, one of the few shows of an emotional outburst from her mother over her, and had gradually become unhappier as the days went on. Dave had known that his wife was worried about her mother ("What have we done, Dave?") and probably even missed her to some extent ("I was all she had."). With the best interests of Lane at heart, he had no sooner grabbed his college degree before he was convincing her to board a plane back to Connecticut, in the hopes of amending the situation, or at the very least, reuniting mother and daughter.  
  
However, what had greeted them in Stars Hollow was an emotionless, monosyllabic and very forthright Mrs. Kim. It was much worse than Dave had ever remembered. She had refused to open the door to their incessant knocking, pleas and explanations. His mother-in-law had, quite literally, shut them out of her life. She was beyond angry, beyond upset, and the war she waged on the young couple was one based on pent-up frustration and bitter disappointment. As far as she could see, both Lane and Dave had failed her, and they could no longer be in her life. But as Dave tried to empathize with the hard-hearted woman (a difficult task), he had ultimately seen that Mrs. Kim thought she, as a mother, had failed her daughter. But instead of trying to move on together, regardless of what had happened, she simply moved on without them.  
  
Lane's grip on his hand relaxed further, and Dave could tell from her steady breathing pattern that his wife had well and truly fallen asleep. He stared at her form in the semi-dark, and wondered if it was possible to stay mad at someone who had as good a heart as she did? Probably not. Which might explain why Mrs. Kim had eventually (eight months later, to be exact) forgiven her daughter. To some extent. Although that might have had something to do with the fact that the couple had moved back to Connecticut. Permanently. Or maybe it was because Lane had been pregnant at the time, and even Mrs. Kim could see that you don't stay mad at pregnant women. Whatever the reason, Lane had resumed some sort of post-elopement relationship with her mother. While it was still riddled with obstacles, more so now than ever, it was at least still there.  
  
He, on the other hand, had never gained her approval. Once, he had been close. Now, he was lucky if she let him in her house. Mrs. Kim never hid the fact that she felt Dave was to blame for Lane's wrongdoings and misdemeanours. Nor did she try to be civil towards him. He was, in her eyes, the only factor in the downfall of her family.  
  
Sighing, Dave shut his eyes. His head was starting to hurt. All these thoughts were floating randomly in his head, when what he wanted most was to just forget them and go to sleep. Sleep. It was beckoning...Mrs. Kim was fading...sleep.  
  
And there was that tune again! That melody! The final key in unlocking his song! It was playing in his head! It was so close, he could virtually reach out and grab it...Dave wrenched open his eyelids with much effort. Was it still there?  
  
As if knowing that he was searching for it, the melody started to fade, slowly, but fading all the same. If he got out of bed now, and just jotted the main notes down, he'd probably get enough of it.  
  
Lane moved in her sleep, nestling back into her husband. Dave adjusted, before nuzzling his nose against the nape of her neck. Should he get up? The song...his song...nah. And with that last thought, Dave closed his eyes again and promptly fell asleep.  
  
A/N. If that sucked, I'm sorry. It probably means that I can't write GG fics. References in this chapter include:  
  
-The Distillers, rock/punk band. (Not too sure if it'd be Lane/Dave's style.)  
  
-Brody Dalle (formerly Brody Armstrong), aforementioned band's front woman.  
  
-The late Joe Strummer, of The Clash. He's also mentioned in episode 3.18- Happy Birthday, Baby, when Lorelai receives his jacket as a present from Tobin.  
  
-Moon, as in Keith Moon, the late drummer of The Who. Mentioned in 3.12- Lorelai Out Of Water, when Dave tells Lane she has to step it up a little, "like Moon." I assume that's who they're talking about.  
  
And yes, I'm aware of the coincidence between their daughter's name, and the actor, Adam Brody, who played Dave. It was completely unintentional, I swear. :) 


	2. A Whole New World Of Goofs

A/N. I really didn't expect anyone to pay much attention to this story, because I'm writing about Lane/Dave, a minority couple in this category, it seems. But, some people did read it, and I just want to say thank you so much for giving me (and my story) a chance.  
  
To punkcatwitissues: As an Australian fan of GG, I just recently watched the last episode with Dave in it, and I know that I'll be missing him too. And I completely agree, there's not enough Lane on the show. Thanks heaps for telling me you loved that first chapter. I feel extremely lucky (and flattered) to have received your review as my first ever GG-fic review.  
  
To Mrs Carly Corinthos: Lane and Dave, in my eyes, will always be the best couple on GG. :) I will be adding the other characters in, if they have a purpose in this story. Otherwise, I won't because too often in the past, I've added extra characters into stories just for the sake of them being there. But Mrs Kim and Rory will definitely be a part of the story. Lorelai and Luke? Hm...I'll get back to you on that one.  
  
To Oregano: Your review meant a lot to me, and I want to say thanks for your kind (and quite motivational) words. I really had no idea what I was doing when I first started writing this, and my only goal was to keep Lane/Dave alive. I thought people would tell me that I'd written them completely out of character and that I had them all wrong. It came as a nice surprise to see that someone noticed I at least tried. So again, thanks.  
  
And finally, to my cousin, who was forced into reading this: You know I'm crazy, and yet you still let me in your house! Thanks for letting me tell you useless crap all the time and for letting me waste hours on the computer looking up more useless crap to tell you.  
  
A big thank you to my beta-reader, Montana Magic, who always has time for my chapters!  
  
Chapter 2: A Whole New World Of Goofs  
  
The sound of cartoon characters interacting with one another slowly seeped their way into the bedroom, as Dave gradually began to wake up. Realizing that his daughter had already started on her usual Saturday morning cartoons, (which were on much too early, in his opinion) he groaned slightly and turned over so that his back faced the bedroom door, through which the offending noise was entering. Reaching out for his wife, he hoped to be lulled back into Dreamland for at least another ten minutes before having to face the day. However, his hand met nothing except her pillow, its coldness signaling that she'd left the bed long ago. Withdrawing back to his side, Dave finally opened his eyes and stared up at the ceiling, trying to let his gaze focus. Outside, a slow but steady rain fell, darkening the morning. Yawning, he slipped his legs over the side, and stood, feeling groggier by the second.  
  
Somehow, he made it to the bathroom, where a much-needed splash of cold water awoke him properly. He'd never been much of a morning person, and preferred to sleep in for as long as he could whenever possible. His wife, on the other hand, was an early riser. Years of living in the routine- riddled Kim household had turned her into a habitual one-who-rises-with-the- sun, and she was often out of their bedroom before he even woke. The same was beginning to apply to his daughter, although as Dave viewed it, all children woke early and were excessively energetic right from the moment they opened their eyes in the morning. Grabbing a towel, he hurriedly wiped his face, noticing that a faint trace of Lane's perfume was lingering on it. The slight scent brought a smile to his lips, as he turned off the light and stepped out into the hallway.  
  
Their house was a little small, but cozy nonetheless. Five or so steps later, Dave was entering the kitchen, where Lane sat at the table, absently stirring the mug in front of her, while her gaze remained on the magazine to her left. She appeared not to have noticed his arrival, as he shuffled in and cast a quick glance towards the stove. A plate of pancakes and bacon sat waiting for him. As if to compensate for the scarceness of it in her own childhood, Lane's meals were now never without meat.  
  
"Hey," Dave greeted his wife, the tiniest hint of sleep still in his voice.  
  
"Hey," she said back, finally noticing him. "You're up."  
  
"I'm up," Dave nodded slowly, sitting down next to her with his breakfast. "And good morning."  
  
He leant over and touched her lips with a kiss. It was a daily routine he enjoyed adhering to, and while it was a small gesture between them, it gave the day some sort of beginning. It was one of those happily-married-couple things that he was all for.  
  
"Same to you," Lane replied, before glancing at his plate. "Has it gone completely cold yet?"  
  
"Not completely," Dave turned back to his food, poking at a pancake. He took a bite. "It still tastes good."  
  
"Really?" Lane asked, raising an eyebrow. "You can't taste the ground soybeans and tofu flavoring?"  
  
Dave, who had been on the verge of taking another bite, halted with his fork midway to his mouth and returned the piece of pancake back to his plate swiftly.  
  
"What did you say?" he glanced at Lane warily.  
  
"Just kidding," she grinned, reaching for her mug of tea, from which she took a sip.  
  
Dave looked back dubiously at his pancakes and bacon, before hesitantly starting to eat again. It wasn't that he had anything against soybeans, or tofu for that mater...not really anyway. He could eat those foods, to some extent, and he knew that they were supposedly good for you. It was just that Lane had attached a rather negative connotation to them, by describing at length the tofu-heavy meals she used to stomach under Mrs. Kim's watchful eye. Her graphic details from how they looked, to how they tasted was more than enough to put Dave off tofu, and anything related to it, for the rest of his life.  
  
"What're you reading?" he peered at the magazine after a short silence.  
  
"Her latest article," Lane murmured, finishing the last paragraph. "She got the feature story."  
  
"Cool," Dave remarked nonchalantly, taking a gulp of his wife's tea.  
  
"I'm gonna go get a shower," she stood up, handing him the open magazine. "Here, read it."  
  
"Mmhm," he mumbled, his mouth full, taking it obligingly.  
  
Lane disappeared down the hallway, and Dave replaced the magazine back onto the table, in order to finish his breakfast. Curiosity got the better of him though, and he glanced over at the two page spread. The article was debating a contentious issue about abortion, but Dave's gaze skipped past the headline and went straight underneath to the by-line: By Rory L. Gilmore.  
  
For as long as Dave had known them, Rory and Lane had always been the best of friends. They were a clichéd example of childhood pals who had grown up together, attended the same elementary and high schools (that was, until Rory headed off to Chilton), and constantly kept in contact throughout their college years, the years that had ultimately shown theirs was a friendship that had withstood the test of Time. They were definitely one of the success stories. Of course, these days, the pair hardly saw each other anymore. Rory lived and worked (constantly) in New York, and although her phone calls came often, they were usually brief, a consequence of her demanding career. The former valedictorian had become something of an 'It Girl' in the world of journalism in a mere three years, credited as "the next big thing" and had worked for several leading publications. Currently, she was a journalist for The New York Times, and surprisingly, a temporary reporter for CNN.  
  
Spearing the last piece of bacon with his fork, Dave hurriedly stuffed it into his mouth before moving towards the sink with his empty plate. Spying a mug of coffee that he hadn't seen beforehand, he made a face as the thoroughly cold liquid met his lips. Tipping the rest down the drain, Dave filled the sink with hot water, letting the dishes soak for a while. Then, he made his way out into the living room, where Brody lay sprawled on her stomach, eyes fixed to the TV screen in front of her. Leaning down, he lifted the child up with ease and planted a noisy kiss on her forehead.  
  
"What are you watching?" he asked, looking straight into her light brown eyes.  
  
"Where's mommy?" Brody asked back, clapping a petite hand to her father's cheek.  
  
"What are you watching?" he asked again, grinning at her.  
  
"Where's Mommy?" she patted Dave's cheek, grinning Lane's grin at him.  
  
"You win," Dave half-sighed, half-smiled, sitting down on the couch.  
  
"You gave up," his daughter pointed out, settling onto his lap. "Where's Mommy?"  
  
"In the shower."  
  
"Are we going to my 'dition?" Brody turned around to face her father.  
  
"Well, it depends," Dave pretended to think. "Do you really wanna be a pilgrim?"  
  
"Yes!" she cried out gleefully, her curls bobbing on her small shoulders.  
  
"Well, I guess that means we're going."  
  
Dave leant back against the couch, half-watching as three cartoon bunnies jumped about like a bunch of lunatics on the TV screen and generally acted like, well, idiots. He raised an eyebrow as the trio raced around the lid of a soup can and then fell into said soup can, before switching his gaze to the little girl on his lap. She was watching avidly.  
  
"Brody, what are you watching?"  
  
"The Dumb Bunnies!" Brody laughed.  
  
An hour and a half later, Dave sat in a darkened auditorium amongst a handful of other parents, as he waited for Brody to audition. Or 'dition, according to the four-year-old. Trying to mask a yawn, Dave pretended to reach for something by his feet, before straightening up in time to watch a little girl burst into tears as she stood on the stage.  
  
"Now, honey, don't cry," said the flustered assistant, a young twenty- something woman who was trying to fix a boy's shoelace at the same time as calm the wailing girl. "Belinda, please stop crying. Mrs. Nelson is still watching you."  
  
Belinda started crying harder than ever, and Dave cringed involuntarily. What a confidence-booster that must've been. A man, two seats away on his left, coughed discreetly, and Dave looked over. The man turned towards Dave and the two shared a hey-this-is-really-awkward-and-painful look.  
  
"She yours?" the man nodded towards the stage.  
  
"No," Dave replied, slightly surprised.  
  
Onstage, a blonde woman had appeared, pulling Belinda to her. The girl's mother, no doubt.  
  
"Bill!" she called out towards the audience. "Bill!"  
  
"Mrs. Laylor, perhaps Belinda should go backstage for awhile-" the assistant started to suggest, only to be cut off.  
  
"No, she's fine," the blonde woman reassured in an overly confidant way, her voice ending on a higher tone than she'd started with. "She's been practicing so hard at home, just please, give us a minute."  
  
The assistant turned towards the judge's table, where the elderly Mrs. Nelson sat, and shrugged questioningly.  
  
"Please," the blonde woman smiled, showing too many teeth. "We've worked so hard at this. Bill!"  
  
A slightly balding man climbed the steps to the stage with the excitement of someone going to their death. He slowly approached the blonde woman, presumably his wife, obviously uncomfortable and embarrassed to be there.  
  
"I wouldn't want to be him," the man on Dave's left muttered.  
  
"That makes two of us," Dave murmured in agreement, feeling sorry for Bill.  
  
"Greg Simmons," the man leant across the two seats, holding out his hand.  
  
"Dave Rygalski," Dave shook the offered hand, nodding slightly.  
  
"First Thanksgiving pageant?" Greg asked.  
  
"Does it show?" Dave asked back amusedly.  
  
"Well, you look bored. That's what first-timers are like," Greg affirmed, glancing back at the stage. "Then, once you become a regular, you start to get a wretched look permanently etched on your face. It usually kicks in round about the third rehearsal or so."  
  
"Thanks for the heads-up," Dave nodded again.  
  
"Dave!"  
  
Lane came flying down the aisle, squeezing past a couple on Dave's right and Dave himself to get to a seat.  
  
"Hey," Dave greeted, before looking past Lane towards Greg. "Lane, this is Greg Simmons. Greg, this is my wife, Lane."  
  
"Hi," Lane smiled briefly, before turning back to Dave breathlessly. "She's on after the freckly kid."  
  
"Lane," her husband grinned. "There's a bunch of kids here who could be classified as freckly."  
  
"No, trust me," Lane waved a hand impatiently. "You don't know the meaning of freckly until you've seen the poor boy."  
  
"So, is she doing good?" Dave settled back into his seat.  
  
"Oh, she's doing great," Lane nodded excitedly. "You should see her. She's calm and ready to go on. She's like Dalle among a million Britney Spears clones."  
  
"Really? Does she have the lip piercings and tattoos as well?"  
  
"She doesn't need them. Brody is already the epitome of cool, because she's the only one who has the closest thing to an authentic pilgrim girl costume on. Really, she looks so fantastic that the other kiddies may throw up with jealousy."  
  
"So, she'll be thanking Lorelai when she gets her Oscar?" Dave smiled.  
  
"It should definitely be considered," Lane replied.  
  
"Or we could always-" Dave broke off mid-sentence as the boy onstage caught his eye. "Whoa! Am I right in assuming the one Brody's after is him?"  
  
"That's the one," his wife confirmed. "Told you."  
  
"Is there even an actual kid under all those freckles?!" Dave asked disbelievingly.  
  
"I know. It looks like some sort of disease, that's like...eating away at him."  
  
"Poor guy."  
  
"I concur wholeheartedly."  
  
"Over hill, over dale," the little boy onstage began to recite a piece, in a small but rather mechanical voice. "Thorough bush, thorough brier."  
  
A slight murmur ran through the audience as they recognised the words, and some even mumbled darkly about overzealous parents.  
  
"Over park, over pale," continued the freckly boy, in his flat tone. "Thorough flood, thorough fire."  
  
"Shakespeare?" Lane whispered incredulously. "Pretty advanced for a four- year-old."  
  
"Makes you think twice about introducing our daughter to this kind of environment, doesn't it," Dave grinned wryly.  
  
"Well, she wanted to do this," Lane crossed her arms, a touch of defensiveness in her voice. "It's not like we pushed her."  
  
"Come on, I never said we did."  
  
Dave looked back at the stage, wincing as the little boy added a few gestures to his routine. They were so obviously rehearsed, it was kind of painful to watch. What made it even more painful were the kid's robotic movements, removing all the grace that should've come with the gestures.  
  
"...and I serve the Fairy Queen, to dew her orbs upon the green..."  
  
"This is ridiculous," Lane muttered. "He probably doesn't even know what he's saying."  
  
"Shh!" hissed the woman sitting on Dave's right.  
  
Lane and Dave fell silent, watching the performance onstage. If possible, it seemed to be getting worse by the second.  
  
"...be rubies, fairy favours, in those freckles live their savours," proceeded the little dull voice.  
  
"I didn't know this monologue was supposed to be autobiographical," Dave uttered as quietly as possible, tilting his head to one side.  
  
Lane stifled a giggle, as she tried to keep a straight face. The restrained laughter caused a slight pain in her side.  
  
"OK, let's stop insulting the kid," she whispered as reasonably as she could at that moment.  
  
"If only The Bard himself could see this now," Dave shook his head, trying to look sorrowful, but failing miserably.  
  
"Stop," Lane leant against her husband's arm to muffle her laugh. "We're so pathetic. And we're being completely mean to that poor boy."  
  
"...all her elves come here anon."  
  
The little boy bowed awkwardly to the audience, and exited the stage amidst an encouraging and sympathetic round of applause.  
  
"Gotta admire the little dude," Dave clapped. "His parents must be a nightmare."  
  
"OK, OK, she's next!" Lane straightened up, jiggling her legs impatiently. "Do you think she's nervous? No, she's probably not. But what if she is? Should I go and see if she needs me? But she probably won't. Am I nervous? Dave, why am I nervous?"  
  
"Just shh," Dave smiled at his wife and lowered his voice. "Like the snooty woman on my right said."  
  
Before his wife could respond, a tiny figure, in a spectacular Pilgrim girl costume, walked onto the stage. Brody Rygalski shielded her eyes against the glare of the spotlight, and squinted out into the audience.  
  
"Can you see me, Mrs. Nelson?" her voice piped up, carrying itself excellently through the large hall. "Because I can't see where you are."  
  
"Honey, just step up a little," the assistant scooted forward, pushing Brody forward slightly.  
  
"Hi, Mrs. Nelson!" Brody waved at the elderly woman excitedly, now that she could see her.  
  
"Hello, young lady," Mrs. Nelson replied in a clipped tone.  
  
It was the first time the judge had spoken to any of the auditioning children that morning. Probably because it was the first time any one of them had spoken directly to her. Judy Nelson gave a half-smile, intrigued by the young girl in front of her. Children were fascinating creatures in her view but unfortunately, she had yet to meet that morning one child who wasn't ultimately auditioning for their parents. You could always tell which ones they were, because their sophisticated pieces were usually so stiffly rehearsed that they became entirely awkward. Much like the boy before. There was always at least one case of stage-parents-syndrome, every year at the auditions. And Judy always felt sorry for the children who put up with it.  
  
"That's a lovely costume you've got on there," Judy remarked.  
  
"My aunty made it for me," Brody smiled. "But she's not my real aunty. She's my mommy's best friend's mom. You know? My mom's best friend, her mom is the one who made this."  
  
"I see. What will you be performing for us today?"  
  
"I've got two songs," the little girl replied. "I like them both. One is A Whole New World from Aladdin, even though I don't really like Aladdin. And the other one is London Calling by The Clash, except I don't know all the words yet. I can hum it all though."  
  
"Why don't you just sing us A Whole New World, then," Judy suggested.  
  
"OK," Brody nodded. "Now?"  
  
"When you're ready."  
  
"I can show you the world," she began, confidently holding out the notes as long as the movie did. "Take you wonder by wonder..."  
  
Dave sat still in his seat, watching his daughter unblinkingly. She looked so tiny up there onstage, so immensely fragile and delicate. And at the same time, she looked absolutely ready to take on anything...the world. Was this how all parents felt? Was this the fear that grabbed at your heart when you realise that the little girl you hold in your arms is constantly growing, and that one day, she won't be in your arms anymore? Dave glanced over at his wife, who sat staring at their daughter, somewhat reminding him of Brody watching TV earlier that morning. He reached for her hand and she clasped it willingly into his grasp.  
  
"...a dazzling place I never knew..."  
  
It was sometimes still with a faint trace of disbelief that Dave called himself a father. As a teenager, the thought of parenthood had barely crossed his mind, and even as a young adult, while he was dating Lane, it had always remained a far-off notion. Back then, as far as he was concerned, music was his destiny. Music, Lane and the band had been everything in his life, and although he never officially decided it, he assumed somewhere in his mind that he could live happily for the rest of his time if he had just those three. He hadn't known just how much better life could be with things like marriage and fatherhood.  
  
Until now, of course. Now that he had a marriage, he could definitely say that it worked for him. Dave wasn't so sure about some of the banal expressions that went along with it, such as the whole belonging-to-each- other thing (Lane also disliked it, claiming she wasn't an object to be taken and kept), but others were OK. Like spending the rest of your life with someone you love. That one was, by all means, OK.  
  
And then, there was Brody. Dave was two months away from being twenty-four when his wife told him she was pregnant. At that stage they'd been married for about a year and a bit. His first reaction had been something resembling shock, followed by short-lived excitement, and then, a long period where he tried to come to terms with the whole matter. Dave had no doubt that he had generally felt positive about becoming a dad, but there were also specks of hesitancy, anxiety and plain fear that came with the feeling. They lasted right up until the day his daughter arrived, one week premature.  
  
Dave could barely remember what he had felt throughout the actual birth, and when Lane had badgered him about it, a week later no less ("So I can put it down in the Baby Book, for Brody.") he had replied "nervous". He surely must have felt nervous at some point during those eighteen excruciating hours (Lane's words verbatim). But the moment he first heard a wail that hadn't come from his wife, an immense feeling of something so pure, something that couldn't even be put into words adequately, flooded through him. And then, when Lane had finally surrendered the tiny infant girl to him, his vision had clouded up.  
  
It was a new experience for Dave, to become overwhelmed with such strong and extreme emotions, and to be left in tears. There'd been a sudden rush of love and adoration for the little human being in his arms, and for a moment, Dave had forgotten to breathe. He'd touched her incredibly small hand with the tip of his finger, afraid to mar her absolute perfection. And then, Brody had grasped his finger. Right then, Dave knew what it felt like to be a father, and what it was like to look down into the face of your newborn daughter.  
  
Some four years later, and here he was, looking up at that very face onstage.  
  
"...a wondrous place, for you and meeeeee."  
  
Dave felt rather than saw Lane flinch slightly at Brody's last note. He held back his own similar reaction. What had happened there? His daughter had been doing reasonably well, but seemed to have undone her own good work with that final bit. Judging by the pause that followed the end of Brody's half-screech, he could tell the audience thought so too. The applause started a second later, and Dave pounded his own hands together until they hurt.  
  
"She was good," Lane said lightly, her eyes following Brody off the stage.  
  
"Yeah, she was," Dave agreed a little too quickly.  
  
"I'm so proud of her," Lane stated emphatically. "Do you feel proud? Because I'm feeling amazingly proud...I don't think I've felt this proud of Brody before. I mean, her first word was very big, but then again so was her first step, and now this. Her first audition! There's so many things competing for the proud title-"  
  
"Lane, she did something weird to the ending, and we both know it," Dave cut her off flatly.  
  
Lane fell silent for a moment.  
  
"OK, yes," she conceded. "But it was minor, don't you think? The rest of it was A-grade standard compared to the other kids."  
  
"Definitely," Dave agreed again.  
  
"But yeah, that ending. Do you think it'll affect her overall performance?"  
  
"I really wouldn't have a clue."  
  
"Yeah. Me neither."  
  
"But like you said, it was minor," Dave reminded his wife.  
  
"Oh yeah," Lane nodded hurriedly. "It was."  
  
"So, let's just...focus on the major part of her audition."  
  
"I've already forgotten the minor."  
  
"Funny that, me too," Dave looked at his wife. "The minor has completely left my mind."  
  
"What minor are you talking about?" Lane gave her husband a mock- questioning look.  
  
"I don't know. Should we start this conversation again?"  
  
"That sounds good to me. So, our daughter did well, don't you think?"  
  
"Oh, I completely agree. She was great."  
  
"More than great," Lane added.  
  
"I hear that," Dave said.  
  
The pair fell silent, watching as the last child, a blonde-haired girl, strutted (yes, strutted), to center-stage.  
  
"My name's Cindy, and I'm gonna be singing Lucky by Britney Spears," she announced in a loud voice. "I'm gonna cut the talking bit out today, but just so you know, I can do all the talking bits too."  
  
A woman stood up from the third row and snapped a picture of the toothy girl on stage. Then another. And another.  
  
"Thanks, mom," the girl waved as the woman sat down. "OK, now I'm gonna start. Early morning, she wakes up, knock, knock, knock on the door..."  
  
Dave felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand. The girl's voice was basically...flat, but she was making it worse by trying to hit the right notes. Her aim, in a manner of speaking, wasn't very good. Plus, the actual song was making him feel slightly nauseous. It always happened when he heard a Britney Spears song.  
  
"OK, I think Brody is without doubt, the best this audience has seen today," Lane whispered to him.  
  
"Agreed," Dave whispered back.  
  
"Even that weird note at the end is better than this!"  
  
"Again, agreed."  
  
"So, is this the first chapter of Brody Rygalski: Superstar?" Lane grinned.  
  
"She's still gotta have a really decent scandal story if she's gonna make it big," Dave replied. "Hey, how about if we tell them she's been addicted to Mountain Dew since she was three years old? Scary stuff, huh?"  
  
"Yeah, that'd really get Hollywood talking," Lane said sardonically, leaning her head onto Dave's shoulder. "We're such goofs."  
  
"I like goofs," Dave smiled.

Later that night, Dave shuffled from Brody's bedroom, where he'd had bedtime story duty tonight, to his own bedroom, just across the hall. Lane sat in bed, the phone pressed to her ear, as she sorted through a pile of papers in front of her.  
  
"...it was sort of like a screech, but not really...I have no idea...She's seen the movie twice, and both times, I watched it with her. There was no screeching at the end of the song, I can tell you that now..."  
  
Dave smiled tiredly, and slowly climbed into bed. Fatigue was washing over him like...he couldn't even come up with anything to finish the thought.  
  
"...yeah, we saw it. It was a great piece...He read it too, right Dave?"  
  
He looked up at the mention of his name.  
  
"What'd you think of Rory's article?"  
  
"Uh..." Dave remembered not reading the article. "It was good."  
  
"He hasn't read it yet," Lane said into the phone. "Don't worry, I'll make him."  
  
Lane made a writing motion, and Dave automatically reached for a pen from his bedside table, handing it to her. She made a note on one of the pieces of paper, and then went through the pile again, signing here and there, while still talking to Rory. Then, she handed the pen back to Dave, and then placed the papers into a folder. Dave replaced the pen back on the table, and slid down under the covers, allowing the fatigue to lead him slowly to sleep.  
  
"...OK, well, call again when you have time...I will...Bye."  
  
Lane placed the phone onto her own bedside table, along with the folder of papers. A quick glance at the clock confirmed that it was only eight-fifty. She could still get some work done.  
  
"Lane," mumbled a semi-conscious Dave.  
  
"Yeah?"  
  
"I know what you're thinking. And it can be done tomorrow."  
  
"What can?" Lane asked incredulously.  
  
"Your work."  
  
A small smile crept onto Lane's face, as she snapped off the lamp, flooding the room with sudden darkness. Lying down, she cuddled up against her husband, smiling even more when he pulled her closer to him without opening his eyes.  
  
"I didn't know I had a mind-reader on my hands," she teased softly.  
  
"Hm," was all he said in reply, the sleepiness evident in his voice.  
  
Raising a hand to his face, Lane rubbed her thumb gently against his cheek and then ran a finger along his chin, feeling the cleft that was indented there. He breathed steadily, only slightly aware of her touch.  
  
"I love you, goof," she whispered.  
  
A/N. I admit, I rushed this chapter just to get it out, because I knew if I didn't finish it soon, it'd take me about three months to get back to it. Consequently, I'm finding it somewhat doesn't compare to the first chapter. In fact, the first chapter is looking quite pretty compared to this. I'm really sorry. I'll try harder next time. References in this chapter include:  
  
-The whole tofu soybeans thing, which I've noticed are staples in the Kim household, it seems. Tofurkey, soy scones and tofutter, just off the top of my head from various episodes.  
  
-The New York Times and CNN, two of the most well-known American news and telecommunications media here in Australia.  
  
-The Dumb Bunnies, a cartoon programme. The soup can thing is actually true. I saw it with my own eyes.  
  
-Brody Dalle again. (See previous chapter.)  
  
-Britney Spears. Self-explanatory. And the song Lucky.  
  
-Oscars, or Academy Awards, whichever you prefer. Big fancy Hollywood night of nights for giving out golden statuettes.  
  
-A Midsummer Night's Dream, play by Shakespeare. The excerpts I have in this chapter are from Act 2, Scene 1.  
  
-William Shakespeare, famous playwright. 1564-1616  
  
-Aladdin, Disney movie, and the song, A Whole New World. Btw, Jasmine has a ridiculously small waist. It's practically non-existent. Just thought I'd share that.  
  
-The Clash, British punk/rock band, and the song, London Calling. I was inspired by 3.04- One's Got Class And The Other One Dyes, where the band practices that very song. Plus, I'm unoriginal.  
  
-Mountain Dew, a soft drink that always leaves a weird aftertaste in my mouth.  
  
The part where Dave is about to eat something and then returns the fork to his plate after Lane brings up the tofu/soybean thing, is me ripping off the teeniest tiniest bit of The O.C in the third episode, I think, The Gamble. Seth does the exact same thing, when Dawn Atwood mentions the restaurant having rats and mice or whatever.  
  
And, I'm quite aware that this chapter kinda ends in the same way the first chapter ended, only with the roles reversed. If it seemed too similar, just blame my unoriginality. :) And I reference waaay too much. 


	3. The Return Of Zach

A/N. Again, I am surprised and somewhat amazed that people like my story. I'm not complaining though; keep the L/D love alive, I say. So, thanks guys. Sorry this chapter took a while. I'm not even sure I can promise you that its content makes up for the time it took to be produced. shrugs  
  
To syntaxandgramma: L/D are my absolute fav. GG couple too! How could anyone not like them? It'd be great if you wrote an L/D fic. You've already got an interested reader here! Well, I've revealed what Dave's job is, but I have to admit, I'm still thinking of the perfect job for Lane. Any suggestions?  
  
To Lucy: I love Dave too!  
  
To filanvampire: Thanks for the favour. I owe you one.  
  
To Montana Magic: You can count on me asking for your advice with this story more often than not. (Just a warning, lol). I'm so happy you like Brody! I'm actually basing (that's a word, right?) her character on several little kids I know...OK, two is not several, but yeah, some of the stuff she says in this chapter is taken from real life.  
  
To punkcatwitissues: OK, time to confess- I actually didn't have much of a clue as to where I wanted to go with this story in those first two chapters. L/D was just damn fun to write. However, since then, I have got a framework of ideas I'm working on, and if I can miraculously pull it off, I promise you this story will have a plot! And hey, glad I made someone laugh. :)  
  
To Oregano: Well, I think I may have fallen short on the referencing in this chapter, but wow, I'm flattered by your review. Thank-you! I'm usually pretty lousy at writing kids, but Brody is coming together pretty easily. I'm so, so happy you like my story so far!  
  
To pengwin-jibberish: I'm with you on the shortage of L/D fics!  
  
Disclaimer- Ugh. I've been neglecting these for a while, but...only Brody belongs to me.  
  
Thanks go out to my beta-reader, MM!  
  
Chapter 3: The Return Of Zach  
  
"Why don't we do this more often?" Dave asked lazily, as he clasped one of Lane's hands between both of his.  
  
"Because we're frightfully busy people, dear boy," Lane replied, shifting against her husband. "And we don't always have time for the things we want to do."  
  
"Frightfully?" Dave grinned.  
  
"Blame Jane Austen," Lane waved her book around. "There's something about her books that makes me use such words. Hand."  
  
Dave let go of her hand, waited for her to turn a page of Pride And Prejudice, before reclaiming it between his own again. His rather rough and calloused fingers traced idle patterns on her palm, as he contentedly stretched out on the couch, Lane's smaller frame beside him, half leaning against his body. He rested his chin gently on her right shoulder, and stared at the book she held, the words not really registering in his mind. How could they, when a distraction like his wife lay within such close proximity?  
  
It'd been a slow and typical Sunday so far. The weather was still too ugly to venture out anywhere, unless it was necessary. Besides, in Dave's opinion, you'd have to be mad to pass up a quiet afternoon in the presence of a loved one and an endless supply of warmth-inducing wonders, like thick blankets, hot beverages and the gas heater. Emphasis on quiet. Quietness was uncommon in their household, a result of having a naturally talkative and usually noisy four-year-old for a daughter. Dave didn't and never would resent the absence of quiet from their lives; music was not a silent art. But every once in a while, it was nice to have a few hours of peace.  
  
Said peace was reigning today because Brody had been whisked off that morning by Rory's mother, Lorelai. The same Lorelai Dave had first known as a teenager. The same Lorelai who had back then, not only offered her garage as a practice space for the band, but had willingly accepted and welcomed Zach, Brian and himself into her life, even if only for Lane's sake at the time. Still, not many mothers would've done that, Mrs. Kim being the prime example. But Lorelai did.  
  
These days, the zany Gilmore was still very much present in Dave's life. It was a given the moment he met Lane, even if he hadn't known it back then. Never the shining example of marital/domestic bliss, (although she loved to point out that she was currently engaged to the best coffee maker in the world), Lorelai worried about her only daughter following in her path, and even more so over the fact that Rory was not bearing any grandchildren for her to spoil. "How can I gloat over the fact that I'm such a hot-looking gran when I don't even have grandkids?" she often complained. To compensate, in a manner of speaking, Lorelai appointed herself a position in Brody's life, residing somewhere between aunty Lorelai and "sort of grandma" Lorelai (in her own words.)  
  
Lorelai had gone crazy over Brody from the moment she knew of the little girl's existence in the world, and endlessly doted on her. A good portion of Brody's wardrobe consisted of Lorelai-made clothing, including the latest design: yesterday's Pilgrim girl costume. Lorelai was present at every birthday party, Christmas gathering and any other family-related function, and as if that weren't enough, she had shown up unexpectedly that morning, offering to take Brody for a few hours under the pretence of wanting to allow Lane and Dave some time alone. ("To catch up on work, or...you know," she'd hinted slyly.) The pair had gone to visit Sookie St. James, a long-time friend of Lorelai's, and whose third and youngest child, was a preschool playmate of Brody's.  
  
"Will you be finishing that anytime soon?" Dave murmured against Lane's neck.  
  
"Hm?" Lane mumbled back, without any interest in her voice, her eyes not even straying from the book for a mere second.  
  
Dave didn't bother repeating his question. Instead, he closed his eyes, and let the quiet descend around him again, bathing him in absolute serenity. It felt so good, but at the same time, it made him feel so lazy. The time that he spent here on the couch, basically doing nothing, could have been spent going over the financial statements that were waiting on the kitchen table. Owning an independent record store meant having a stable income, as well as mixing his passion for music with his work. At the same time, it also meant annoying necessities like paperwork and advertising fees, things he preferred to let his business partner handle. Said business partner, his old bandmate Brian Cabrera, was currently in Minnesota visiting his family for the holidays, and had thereby left the store (and its finances) in Dave's hands.  
  
Of course, there was also the irritating matter of his unfinished song, which hadn't been heard from since Friday night. The tune had all but disappeared from his head, and any hope he'd had left of completing it was now gurgling down the gutters, like the rain outside. Before he could dwell on his own idleness and mourn the apparent death of his song a bit more, the doorbell rang.  
  
"That'll be Lorelai," Lane stated absently, turning another page but otherwise not moving from the couch.  
  
Dave raised himself into a semi-sitting position, and somehow extracted his legs from underneath Lane. Stepping over his novel-engrossed wife, he shuffled towards the front door, glancing at his reflection in the small mirror hanging in the hall. To appear even the slightest bit rumpled, would be to prompt an insinuating remark from Lorelai, even when there was nothing to insinuate about; Lane had pretty much devoted her attention to nothing but Pride And Prejudice all morning. Still, it wasn't beneath Lorelai to embarrass him with some implicative comment, and stand by to watch him squirm. It was one of her favorite pastimes. Dave ran a hand over his slightly unruly brown hair, and opened the door.  
  
"Dude, hey," came a familiar voice.  
  
"Zach?" Dave asked in surprise, blinking in rapid succession at the visage of his other former bandmate. "What are you doing here?"  
  
The last time he'd heard from the impulsive and ever-restless Zach Lowe was over a year ago. Zach had been on his way to London, intent on touring their music scene with his own band, The Cat That Got My Tongue (or as he referred to it, TCTGMT). Although he knew his friend was not big on sentiments, Dave had always assumed Zach would keep in touch one way or another. After all, they'd been friends since ninth grade, and had formed their first cover band together. Didn't that account for something? Apparently not, in Zach's book, for he had barely called in the last fifteen or so months, and Dave had pretty much accepted that his friend had disappeared. Until now.  
  
"Dude," Zach glared at Dave. "I'm soaking wet and cold as Hell."  
  
"Aren't there flames in Hell?" Dave couldn't resist.  
  
"If you're not gonna let me in, I'm gonna go find someone more accommodating," Zach continued as if he hadn't heard. "Like Brian."  
  
Dave merely opened the door wider and gestured with his head, allowing Zach to step through. Noting that his friend hauled in with him a small worn rucksack, Dave decided not to comment on the item.  
  
"You'd have to come back here anyway," he said instead. "Brian's in Minnesota."  
  
"He's still paying regular parental visits?" Zach asked disbelievingly. "I told him so many times, Dude, that's so not rock 'n' roll. Does the guy never listen or something?"  
  
"I still see my parents," countered Dave. "Does that make me non rock 'n' roll?"  
  
"You're married," Zach stressed the M-word, as if it explained everything.  
  
Dave gave a half-shrug, questioning his friend with a raise of his eyebrows.  
  
"You're like a domestic dude now," Zach tried again. "You don't even count."  
  
He brushed past Dave, not noticing the roll of Dave's eyes. It seemed that no matter how much time Zach disappeared for, he always returned intact, narrow-mindedness and all.  
  
"Yo, Lane," Zach called out as they entered the living room.  
  
"Zach, hi," Lane stood up, reaching over to hug him. "You're soaking. Hang on, I'll go get towels."  
  
She disappeared from the room, and Zach sat down on the couch, picking up Pride And Prejudice.  
  
"I always wondered who read this kind of stuff," he said to no one in particular. "Apart from my grandma."  
  
"So, what are you doing here?" Dave repeated his question from before, hoping to get an answer this time.  
  
"Can you give me a minute to catch my breath?" Zach drawled in his usual fashion.  
  
His gaze switched to a framed photo on the small table next to the couch. Picking it up, he studied the three smiling faces that beamed at the camera.  
  
"Man, you guys look like the Brady Bunch," he muttered after a while, placing the photo back. "Where's the little rock girl?"  
  
"Brody? She's out with a friend."  
  
"Do you want a coffee or something?" Lane swept back into the room, dumping a load of towels into Zach's lap.  
  
"Or something," Zach stood up, pulling his bag off the floor. "No caffeine. I haven't slept for two days."  
  
"No caffeine, got it," Lane watched him move hesitantly towards the hall. "Bathroom's the second on your right."  
  
As soon as she heard the bathroom door close, Lane turned to face her husband. Dave motioned towards the kitchen and Lane nodded, following him out of the living room.  
  
"He's back," she stated, a hint of surprise in her voice.  
  
"Yeah," Dave nodded slowly.  
  
"Is he staying?"  
  
Dave shrugged, reaching past Lane for a mug from the shelf behind her.  
  
"What do we have non-caffeinated?"  
  
It was Lane's turn to shrug, as she pulled open the fridge. Surveying its meager contents, she finally pulled out a half-empty carton of milk and an almost empty bottle of juice.  
  
"Milk and juice?" Dave asked. "Could be an interesting concoction."  
  
"Well," Lane replaced the items. "We don't have anything else."  
  
"Hold on," Dave held up one finger, and turned to exit the kitchen. "Zach, we-"  
  
His voice died as he caught sight of his friend. Zach lay sprawled out on the couch, seemingly asleep. Now dressed in dry clothes, his previous garments and the rucksack were nowhere in sight. Dave's eyes widened as Zach turned in his sleep, revealing a purple bruise on the right side of his neck, something Dave had failed to see before. Footsteps sounded behind him.  
  
"Dave, what-" Lane too fell silent, as she gazed at the scene in front of her, the bruise catching her eye immediately. "Oh my G-"  
  
"Lane," Dave said quietly, gesturing back towards the kitchen.  
  
Silently, the couple left the living room once more.  
  
It was some few hours later that Zach woke up, oblivious to the fact that both Dave and Lane had seen his bruise, and even more so to the fact that a lengthy discussion had been held about him in the kitchen.  
  
"Zach," Lane looked over at the couch. "Are you hungry?"  
  
"Starved," mumbled the former lead singer. "What do you got?"  
  
"Truthfully? We've pretty much got nothing. We were gonna order something in. Any preferences?"  
  
Before Zach could so much as place an order, the doorbell rang.  
  
"That'll be Lorelai," Dave called from the kitchen, as he made his way down the hall, before mumbling under his breath, "Second time lucky."  
  
Second time lucky was ringing true it seemed; Lorelai could be heard even before he reached the door.  
  
"Guess who's back? Back again!"  
  
"Brody's back!" Brody's voice could be heard chiming in, as Dave recognized the Eminem song. "Tell a friend!"  
  
He opened the door to reveal a sodden umbrella sheltering his daughter and Lorelai from the rain.  
  
"Hey!" Lorelai smiled brightly, stepping into the house. "Sorry we're late. We stopped at-"  
  
"Luke's!" Brody cut in gleefully, a half-eaten doughnut wrapped in a napkin, clutched in her hand.  
  
"You weren't planning on having dinner anytime soon, were ya?" Lorelai grinned guiltily. "'Cause if you were, consider this one fed."  
  
Brody had run ahead towards the living room, but her footsteps faltered as she stepped in.  
  
"Mommy, who's that?"  
  
Lorelai raised her eyebrows in question at Dave, evidently surprised that someone else was in the house, before moving to follow Brody.  
  
"You remember Uncle Zach? He was the one who gave you that guitar for your first birthday," Dave could hear Lane explaining to their daughter.  
  
"No, not Uncle," Zach said hurriedly. "That makes me sound old, dude."  
  
"Zach, hi," said Lorelai's voice, as Dave quickly shut the door and hurried to the living room.  
  
He stepped through the doorway just in time to see Zach's face, as the younger man stared at the older woman. Zach's mouth was slightly agape, and Lorelai shifted her weight uncomfortably from one foot to the other as she waited for a reply.  
  
"Hey...Lorelai," Zach finally grinned. "You look...great."  
  
"Oh," Lorelai pretended to be abashed by the comment, waving it away with her hand. "You don't have to be nice to an old maid like me. Save your words for some super rock chick."  
  
She turned to raise her eyebrows at Dave again, this time more pointedly, and he ran a hand through his hair.  
  
"Uh, Zach's...visiting," he said, half-shrugging.  
  
Dave had known that back in the days of their band, Zach had possessed a crush on Lorelai. Her discomfort at his unrequited feelings had never deterred him from thinking she was "the finest woman on the planet". Judging by his expression, it seemed that Zach still held similar thoughts in his mind.  
  
"Can you sing London Calling?" Brody asked curiously, staring at Zach.  
  
"Uh...sure," Zach glanced quickly at the little girl, before turning back to Lorelai.  
  
"Can you teach me the words?" the child piped up again.  
  
"Maybe later," Zach replied a little dismissively.  
  
Satisfied, Brody clambered onto the couch and sat next to Zach, continuing to stare at him as if the man were an animal at the zoo.  
  
"I should probably get going," Lorelai started, looking towards Lane.  
  
"No, stay," Zach stood up suddenly, taking a few steps towards her. "We were just about to...order in something."  
  
"Oh, I...couldn't," Lorelai shook her head, retreating back in slight alarm. "Anyway, I already ate, so maybe another time, OK?"  
  
"You already ate? Bummer."  
  
"Yeah, I know, bummer, huh?" she echoed, but without the same emphasis.  
  
"Definitely next time, then," Zach proposed.  
  
"Mm-hm," Lorelai nodded, carefully avoiding eye contact with the young man. "So, I'll be leaving now."  
  
"Bye, Slim Shady!" Brody slid off the couch and bounded over to Lorelai.  
  
"Oh, you're drunk aren't you, honey?" Lorelai said mock-concernedly. "You're having a little trouble distinguishing between fabulous me and that rapper boy in your dreams, huh? No more tequila shots for you."  
  
"Can we go to Luke's again?" Brody asked, pulling at Lorelai's black coat.  
  
"Next time," Lorelai leant down to press a kiss to Brody's forehead. "Goodbye, my budding Julie Andrews."  
  
"Thanks for taking her out today," Lane hugged her best friend's mother.  
  
"No need to thank me," Lorelai assured her before dropping her voice to a whisper that only Lane heard. "Just make sure I get out of here unscathed."  
  
Lane nodded hurriedly as Lorelai turned back to face Zach. She extended her hand to him, and Dave noticed that she angled it so that her engagement ring could be easily seen. Zach, however, seemed to miss it completely, as he held onto Lorelai's hand a few moments longer than was the normal requisite time span of a handshake.  
  
"Great to see you again," Zach enthused.  
  
"Oh, same here," Lorelai murmured, trying to tactfully remove her hand from his grasp.  
  
"Hey look, the rain's stopped," Lane said suddenly. "You'd better leave before it starts pouring again."  
  
Dave caught his wife's glance and ushered Lorelai out of the room before Zach could say anything else.  
  
"Thanks again for today," Dave said, opening the front door for Lorelai.  
  
"Did you get much done?" she asked, stepping outside onto the porch, the rain, as Lane had said, momentarily absent from the afternoon.  
  
"Not really," he answered, shoving his hands into the pockets of his jeans. "I've still got a bunch of stuff to sort out for work, and Brian won't be back until the start of December."  
  
"Well, if you ever need any help just remember, I do run an inn," Lorelai reminded him. "I'm a pro with this stuff."  
  
"Right," Dave nodded, knowing he'd probably never take her up on the offer. "So, I didn't know Zach was gonna...be...you know..."  
  
"Hey, no biggie," she smiled, stretching out her hand and gazing at the ring adorning her finger. "He's still kinda oblivious to the obvious things, isn't he? Oy with the poodles already."  
  
Dave laughed, albeit confusedly, at that last remark, watching as Lorelai splashed down the path to her car, before turning back to go inside. Lane's voice was floating down the hall from the kitchen; it seemed that pizza would be on the menu tonight.  
  
"What's the underworld?" Brody asked, as Dave re-entered the living room.  
  
"Dude, I haven't finished," Zach frowned, before continuing to recite the previously promised lyrics. "London calling to the underworld, come out of the cupboard-"  
  
"Does the underworld live in a cupboard?" Brody interrupted, kneeling on her knees to reach Zach's eye level, who sat beside her on the couch.  
  
"Brody, when you wanna sing a song, you have to learn it first," Zach instructed. "And that means listening. No asking me questions, got it?"  
  
"That's not what Daddy says," Brody countered, staring at Zach defiantly. "He says songs have meanings behind them, and he always tells me what the words in the songs mean. Do you know what the meaning behind 'A Whole New World' is?"  
  
"No, and I don't really care," Zach muttered, leaning back onto the couch.  
  
"Lorelai says it's a pervert song with grownups' con tations that Disney tried to mask raid as a kiddie tune."  
  
Dave suppressed a smile, not bothering to correct Brody on 'perverted', 'connotations' and 'masquerade', but Zach visibly perked up at the mention of Lorelai's name.  
  
"She said that, huh?" he grinned unseeingly at Brody, who nodded emphatically.  
  
"Are you staying here?" she asked, leaning over to look Zach in the eye.  
  
"Sure thing, kid," Zach mumbled, letting his head fall to one side, and in doing so, exposing the bruise on his neck.  
  
"You have a bruise!" Brody exclaimed, pointing at the purple mark.  
  
Zach's head snapped back as he hurriedly sat up, glancing in Dave's direction for a second before looking away.  
  
"I have one too," Brody continued cheerfully, unfolding one leg from beneath her, and pulling at her corduroy trouser to reveal a similar, but smaller bruise on the lower part of her left leg. "I got it at preschool, when I kicked the ball, but I missed, and I kicked the bench instead, and it banged into my leg. Is that how you got yours?"  
  
Dave watched Zach as the man nodded slightly at his daughter, obviously uncomfortable with the question.  
  
"That's too bad," Brody commiserated, patting Zach's arm in an almost amusing display of sympathy, had the situation not been so awkward.  
  
At that moment, Lane came back into the living room, and the little girl ran over to her mother excitedly.  
  
"Guess what, Mommy, guess what?" She didn't give Lane a chance to hazard a guess, before launching into a babble. "Zach taught me the first line of London Calling, but I've forgotten it. And Zach has the same bruise as me! He got it when he tried to kick the ball, and the bench banged into his neck too! And what's the underworld and why does it live in a cupboard?"  
  
Lane looked questioningly between the two men in the living room, before bending down to pick up Brody, carrying her back into the kitchen without another word.  
  
"Did you order me a mini-pizza, from Joe's?" the little girl's voice could be heard before the kitchen door shut.  
  
Left in the silence, Dave cautiously threw a glance at his friend. Zach was staring at a spot on the carpet, and seemed to have no words to offer. The clock hanging on the wall, ticked merrily on unaware of the tense atmosphere slowly filling the space between the two guys.  
  
"So...what's with the bruise?" Dave finally ventured to ask.  
  
Zach didn't answer; it was as if Dave hadn't spoken a word.  
  
"Come on, man. I think we both know your neck didn't collide with a bench."  
  
"It's nothing alright," Zach looked up, a darkness lingering in his eyes that Dave had never seen before.  
  
"Zach, I-"  
  
"Look, dude!" Zach snapped. "Just leave it, OK?"  
  
Before Dave could react, the doorbell rang (the third time in six hours). He heard Brody screeching as she ran down the hallway ("Pizza! Pizza!"), Lane following behind. Moments later, they returned to the living room, Brody clutching what appeared to be a smaller version of a pizza box, and Lane holding two regular-sized ones.  
  
"It's raining again," she announced, setting them down onto the coffee table. "Zach, help yourself. You still like pepperoni, right?"  
  
Instead of answering, Zach stared at Brody, who had settled onto the floor in front of him to eat her mini-pizza. His eyes were slightly glazed, as if he weren't really looking at the little girl at all.  
  
"Want some pizza, Zach?" Brody offered him a slice of hers.  
  
Zach shook his head, more to himself than to Brody's offer, but all the same, reached out with his hand to ruffle Brody's curls, albeit awkwardly, as if it were an action he was not used to performing, which was probably the truth.  
  
"Does your bruise still hurt?" the little girl asked, and this time Zach seemed to hear her, for he gave the child a small grin.  
  
"Zach," Dave held out one of the open pizza boxes, but Zach only shook his head and stood up, moving towards the hallway.  
  
"Where are you going?" Lane raised her eyebrows in question.  
  
"Out," he replied shortly.  
  
"Zach," Dave said again, this time with a different tone, as he too stood up.  
  
But Zach was already at the front door, closing it behind him with a final click.  
  
"Maybe he's gone to find out why the underworld lives in a cupboard for me," Brody broke the silence, before returning happily to pick at her pizza slice, unaware of the worried looks her parents were trading.  
  
A/N. OK, I just re-read that chapter, and I am more than happy to say that I personally think, it stinks like a mouldy tuna sandwich! Apologies, apologies. I kept coming back to it and adding more stuff, and then I finished it one night in a rush, and now, it seems like it's all disconnected, and it's just terrible. I promise anyone who's reading that the fourth will not be like this! References in this chapter include:  
  
-Jane Austen, 1775-1817, English author of...  
  
-Pride And Prejudice. I've never actually read this book before.  
  
-The Brady Bunch, television series in the sixties/seventies about a really cheesy family.  
  
-Eminem, controversial white rapper who sings the song...  
  
-Without Me, the lyrics of which I used a small portion of.  
  
-London Calling, refer to last chapter. I used like, a line of the lyrics.  
  
-Slim Shady, Eminem's alter ego.  
  
-A Whole New World, refer to last chapter. And think about it...the lyrics are kinda...hm.  
  
-'Oy with the poodles already', Lorelai's catchphrase in 2.22- I Can't Get Started.  
  
-Oh, and a semi-reference to something in 3.19- Keg! Max!, where Zach wanted to call their band Follow Them To The Edge Of The Desert, and said that their fans can shorten it to FTTTEOTD. Hence, me being unoriginal and all...  
  
As said before, I am really not very happy with this chapter, and can only promise you that the next chapter won't be as bad. Whether or not you believe me is another story.  
  
There is a reason why I'm bringing Zach into the story (as well as Brian, although not physically as of yet). I was trying to get Zach's character right, and all I could think of was, he says 'Dude' a lot. So, I probably messed him up, but I can just say it's because he's older now, so of course he's different. Let's see, Lorelai made an appearance, and it won't be her last, and we hear briefly about Luke: he's still alive. LOL, J/K! At this point in time, I have no plans to actually bring Luke into the story. This may change. And yeah, Lorelai's engaged, as you all now know. Who's her fiancé? Well, that's actually something I only recently decided. I had a tough time deciding who it would be, but my mind's made up, and you'll find out soon enough. Oh, and did anyone notice anything about Brian and Zach's last names? It's most likely you wouldn't have, but it's to do with me being unoriginal again. What else is new? 


End file.
